


Know

by Theladyknight23



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theladyknight23/pseuds/Theladyknight23
Summary: Kate knew a lot of things. She knew that if you drew back that bow, if you kept on talking, sooner or later it would become something more. You would become more than that little girl, walking home alone in the dark. Practically an Avenger wasn’t an Avenger, but it sounded like it when you said it fast enough.But Kate is not sure what to do with "you're not that straight."
Relationships: Kate Bishop/America Chavez
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	Know

Kate knew a lot of things. She knew that if you drew back that bow, if you kept on talking, sooner or later it would become something more. You would become more than that little girl, walking home alone in the dark. Practically an avenger wasn’t an avenger, but it sounded like it when you said it fast enough. Foot on the petal, bow knocked, sharp grin on the face—and go. Go until you moved beyond your father and his crimes, keep going even when the gas runs low and you’re scrounging for cheap snacks in some shitty 7/11, because it turns out cutting up the credit cards actually fucking sucks sometimes, even when you know you were being funded by a certifiably ‘bad’ guy.

She knew the feeling of pain exploding across her face, skinned knees and road burn in those hip holes she should really get around to redesigning. But she did look good in that outfit, and purple was definitely her colour. She had seen the way America’s eyes lingered.

She knew that when you get lonely, you can put on a cute outfit and go dancing and someone will kiss you, and sometimes that’s all you need. Because you watched your best friend die, and your dad is evil, and you saw that videotape of Clint killing that guy, and even if it wasn’t true it looked true. So she collected kisses, and found comfort where she could find it. Her hand was always steady and her aim was always perfect, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t shaking inside. She kept moving. She couldn’t run as fast as Tommy but sometimes it felt like it.

She was reminded—with a fist to the nose or a concussion or the fact that she had to take the bus when the aliens attacked the Macy’s downtown (pick up your damn phone Billy)—that she was human. Human, and no amount of training or preparation could make her supersmart, or give her the ability to fly or make magic. But she also knew that didn’t matter. She was Kate Bishop, and she was a hero. She ran towards danger. She had Captain America’s number in her phone (the chances of this actually being Cap’s number was low, but Clint swore it was the real deal and Phil only shrugged when she turned her glare on him). She knew that she took charge instinctively. Leading meant taking on responsibility, and blaming herself every time anything went wrong on her watch. But it was also the best damn feeling in the world.

She knew that Clint would have coffee. She might be mess, but she could count on him to be even more of a mess, and there was some comfort to that. She could sit on his purple couch, pet Lucky, eat cereal and just be. She didn’t trust him to trim her bangs, but she did trust him to be there, with his stupid trick arrows, and his bad jokes, and that was more than enough.

She knew lots of things.

_Princess… you’re not that straight._

It had been two days and Kate still didn’t know what to do with America’s words, the way she threw them over her side with a knowing smile. Kate didn’t know if it was because it wasn’t true, or it wasn’t false, or if it was because America was the one saying it. America, who found an aesthetic and stuck to it. America with her short shorts and her interdimensional kicks. America who held all that power in her hands, the power to literally tear her way through realities, and still looked at Kate with her bow, and saw an equal, a leader.

Kate leaned back on the couch and groaned. Clint, slouched over a stool by the counter, groaned sympathetically in response.

“How’s the sexual identity crisis going Katie-Kate?”

“Shut up.”

“You would think with Billy, Teddy, America, Tommy and David around you’d think about this more.”

“Clint—”

“Katie.”

Kate thought about America’s lips, her smirk, and covered her face with her hands.

“Want to go shoot stuff?” asked Clint after a minute.

“Yes,” said Kate, emphatically, pulling herself up off the couch. Shooting stuff was something she knew. Something she was good at. Something she loved.

_Princess._

The twenty minute drive to the range had never felt so long.

Kate set up in the lane beside Clint, and for an hour it was just this—the surety of the arrow finding its place in the target. The familiar weight and pull of the draw. This was a world she knew.

After archery they went and got ice cream, sitting at the tiny tables outside, with Lucky at their feet. Clint wasn’t good at a lot of things, but he could be good at this. Reading her. Knowing what she needed.

“You know it’s okay, right?”

Kate nodded and shovelled more mint chocolate chip inside her mouth.

“I’m bi.”

Kate raised her eyebrows and fixed him with a knowing look. She had seen him with Nat, Bobbi and Phil. She had also seen him haplessly flirting with all manner of baristas. She was well aware.

“Yes, I know Clint.”

“You don’t have to put a label on it though. It’s okay to take this one step at a time, it’s a process. You don’t have to make it more than just you and her.” It was his turn to fix her with a knowing smirk. “We’ve all seen how you look at her.”

“That was oddly poetic, Hawkeye” she managed, feeling her cheeks burn.

“I try, Hawkeye,” he replied with a satisfied smile, leaning back in his chair.

She had a feeling it was more. It was new, but maybe this was another way she could find herself, another word to reflect a part of herself. Like Hawkeye. It wasn’t just a codename. It was a name that captured the power and freedom of her arrows, the feeling of not having powers, of not knowing enough, but doing it anyways.

Kate called America when she got back to her apartment. She didn’t know where this was going to go, but she did know all the digits of America’s number, and that seemed to mean more the longer she thought about it.

America picked up on the second ring.

“What’s up Princess?”

“America.” Kate took a steadying breath and smiled. She knew that she loved archery, loved being a hero. Knew that she loved trashy tv, sleeping in, and driving too fast. And she knew this.

“I’m not that straight.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Kate could practically feel the smile emanating down the line.

“I’ll be right there.”


End file.
